


Round One

by kabeswaters



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Requested, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabeswaters/pseuds/kabeswaters
Summary: Everyone expects that, when it comes to sex with Cedric Diggory, he’d be as soft and kind as his words.  However, after dating him for a long time, you know that he is quite the opposite in the bedroom; and, even out of it.





	Round One

It wasn’t a blur, exactly, the difficulty you had hearing or replying to friendly dinner time chatter correctly. Because if it was a blur, you wouldn’t have been able to focus on the pumpkins which hung from the Great Hall’s ceiling with excruciating detail, tracing every orange curve with your eyes in attempt to distract from the feeling of fingertips edging closer and closer to your panties. You wouldn’t have been able to recognize how odd it must look, you next to “innocent” boyfriend Cedric Diggory, dazed and unphased by the food on your plate while everyone else around you shoveled Yorkshire Pudding and Shepherd’s Pie into their faces, moaning at the taste. But what you wanted to moan at had absolutely no relation to food. 

Your face felt warmer than usual, yet somehow Cedric’s breath against your ear was still hotter. In a mixture of honest curiosity and attempting to distract yourself from arousal, you wondered what your friends around you thought Cedric was whispering in your ear; most likely something stomach-achingly sweet, like how beautiful you looked—though you weren’t wearing anything spectacular, but that only made it a more Cedric-like compliment—or an inside joke. Not the rough and gutturally deep groan of, “I bet you’re already so wet for me, aren’t you?”

If the tone of his voice was any indication—it usually was—Cedric most likely had an unhideable erection by then. You had to force your hands against the Hufflepuff table, gripping the edge of it with only one hand, in order to restrain yourself from touching, not wanting to get punished for it later. 

There was going to be a later.

There had to be: Cedric hadn’t given up on teasing you for the entire Halloween Feast. First, it was the kiss he gave, short enough to look innocent but intense enough to leave you gasping. It was like he was trying to swallow you whole and all at once. Like taking a shot but you were the vodka 

You felt like vodka, achingly burning, as his hand found its way to your knee the moment you sat down besides him. It should have been illegal, the way his hands were gently kneading the skin up your thigh just to turn into a light brush, then a prod again. You knew from experience this was something he’d prefer to do with his lips, and just the thought sent a shiver up and down your skin. After, you glanced at him quickly, the sinfulness in his smile hidden to everyone but you. 

Now, he was getting closer and closer to approaching your heat; you were getting closer and closer to making your lip bleed from biting down, unwilling to make noise both in fear of embarrassment and letting Cedric get a rise out of you. So far you had been doing quite well considering you wanted to moan ever since that first kiss, right into his open mouth, allow yourself to revel in and reveal the pleasure of it. Allow Cedric to get the vibration of your hot breath inside of his mouth and fall into insanity from the sensation. But you didn’t revel or reveal and Cedric hadn’t fallen; you were too good at distracting yourself and Cedric too good at being relentless. And wonderfully so. 

Because you loved being pushed close to the edge, almost revealing yourself, but not quite. You loved surrendering yourself to Cedric’s hidden smirks and dirty touches during school feasts. It made your heart rush and your skin flush and your veins feel as though fire ran through them, being so open yet so private, so exposed yet so hidden. The electricity of Cedric’s touches and unadulterated filth of his words only yours to know, alongside how much you knew he liked this, too. Loved having you under his fingertips, around them, gasping for air and saying it was a cough.

“Just a cough from allergies,” you confirmed after a rough finger slipped inside of you, the whimper it elicited in response causing your friends to look at you with worry. Cedric was right: you were incredibly wet, so much so his finger was able to slide into you without hesitation. But, because of the angle at which you sat—legs spread just widely enough, ass as far forward as you could be to expose your cunt—you couldn’t move without risking taking the bench with you, leaving you at the mercy of his merciless hands. Right where you loved to be. Right where he liked having you. 

Your breath hitched again as Cedric added another finger. With the way he pumped them in and out of you with steadiness and intention, his movements were well constituted as fucking. But he didn’t repeat the thrusts in rhythm; instead, Cedric varied between ramming them into you and sliding them in and out in languid movements, curling his fingers slowly at the apex of his motion and hitting your g-spot without missing a beat in the conversation among he and your friends.

It wasn’t exactly that you had given up on trying to participate; more so, it was the fact that you couldn’t risk opening your mouth, fully aware of how many moans were stored at the base of your throat. With white knuckles and fake smiles you sat at the table while Cedric finger-fucked you in whatever way his malicious mind conjured. In changing rhythms and skillful motions that made your hips threaten to thrust up. It was dangerous and sinful and wrong and so hot, you weren’t quite sure how you hadn’t exploded from the heat which flooded your body and left you breathless. 

From besides you, Cedric was just smirking. Plainly in the bubbling candlelight. However, the darkness in his eyes was but a glint that only you could recognize; the empty pitilessness of them, uncaring not because he didn’t know how, but he preferred it this way. He loved seeing you squirm after he seethed, bite back noises, pretend to be the couple that slowly made love with the lights on and always while kissing when, in truth, you were the couple that enjoyed public teasing and the rush it sent up your spines. 

As your friends entered a fit of laughter, Cedric took the opportunity to lean into your ear once more. “You like this, don’t you?” he asked. “Like having my fingers in you when anyone could notice.” You nodded, still biting your lip. Still barely hanging on as a low chuckle blew against your skin. “Hm, I thought so. Now, what happens if I do this?”

In a swift motion, Cedric rose his thumb and pressed it against your clit. He was still stretching you open with two fingers, slowly, listlessly, as if the combination of all the right touches in all the right places wouldn’t have you positively begging for something rougher (if he did the same thing in private, you probably would have been doing so then, on hands and knees and all). 

But you were at the Hufflepuff table at the Halloween Feast around friends. So you kept edging your teeth into your bottom lip—that poor patch of nearly-bleeding skin—and digging your nails into anything that could steady you as your body quivered in reaction to Cedric’s. For a moment you squeezed your eyes shut, just trying to swallow down the downpour of pleasure, before opening them once more with as much composure as you could muster. Cedric hissed at the reaction. 

Your friends, however, had a different response. They sat across from you with frown lined foreheads and taught eyebrows, asking if you were alright about twenty times over. Sometimes, when it got to this point—yes, there had been other times—Cedric would have the decency to pull his fingers out or, at the very least, stop their thrusting. He’d leave them unmoving yet still inside of you, with the same sense of possessiveness an arm around a waist or interlocking of hands held. But today was different. Today he wasn’t letting you off easy, kept moving, swiping, curling fingers though you were expected to respond. It was absolutely evil and undoubtedly erotic. 

It took three deep breaths to reply. Still, your sentences were short and choppy; “My stomach,” you began, simply. “It’s killing me.” 

Their frowns got deeper and Cedric’s settled onto his face, unnervingly believable but still unable to hide the mischievous gleam in his eyes. The one that matched the way his fingers tore you apart.

You watched him clear his throat a bit before asking in a voice far less husky than he had used when whispering into your ear, “Do you think you need me to take you back to your room?”

It was on cue, his next motion, perfectly planned and effortlessly executed. Cedric’s fingers were out of you as he asked the question, and right after, as his words were disappearing into the air, he slammed his fingers in with a full, assertive and deep thrust, causing you to hiss out, “yes.” 

Little did your friends know what you were actually responding to. The thought only made your toes curl into your shoes more. Your socks were scrunched up in a usually uncomfortable way but you were too busy to take notice as Cedric pulled his fingers out of you and slid your panties back up before wiping his fingers on the napkin still laid neatly across his thigh. 

He then helped you up innocently, getting up first to stand behind you and help you out of your seat (or, truly, to press the hardness of his erection against you). “C’mon,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, before grumbling, “Wanna fuck you so hard,” just lowly enough to keep it a secret. As you stood, your ass pushed against him habitually. Cedric sucked in a breath while his hand squeezed against yours. 

His grip remained almost painfully firm as he lead you out of the Great Hall, the tautness of his jaw obvious even though his focus on the approaching corridor never broke. A few first-years greeted him in their high-pitched hopefulness, but Cedric didn’t even offer them a fake smile as you passed them with steps somewhere between a walk and a run. You found yourself almost whispering his name to slow down, make it look less obvious. 

The moment you made it into the corridor, you indulged in that urge, but his name came out as more of a firm questioning than a whisper. A strong “Cedric!” reverberated against the stone walls as you tugged his hand back. “Cedric, what the—”

Before you realized what was happening, you felt the smooth stone hit against your back, the coldness of it contrasting starkly with Cedric’s breath hot against your mouth. He was staring at it—you noticed while glancing up—like he was going to devour it whole.

“Fuck, that was so hot and I just had to get out of there and do this,” he explained. You felt every word of his against your lips before they were replaced with his, plump and relentless. Cedric shoved his tongue between your teeth with a vigor based in craving rather than necessity—as if you had anywhere better to be—and you just stood there, pliant as always, as Cedric forced your arms up alongside the wall, pinning you to it. He stretched them out like he was anchoring you to the stone, as if you’d be there for an eternity. But, as quickly as he initiated the kiss, he abandoned it, lips hanging and breathing rugged, pulling you off the wall to continue on the trek to your dorm without giving you a moment to realize what was happening.

Along the way, the pattern continued. One moment you were struggling to keep up and the next you were struggling to find oxygen, so engrossed in Cedric even breathing was an impossible task. He kissed you like your mouths were battlefields. He kissed you like he wanted to own your lips. He kissed you like he had wanted to that entire time he was fingering you under the table; maybe he did, but he’d never admit to it. Not in this state, anyways.

So, when you finally arrived at the bedroom, the things that happened immediately after—Cedric pushing you up against your bedroom wall and putting his mouth on yours after tugging your robe off of you—did not come as a surprise. Yet it still weakened your knees and sent shivers up and down your skin, being pressed against a wall and unable to do anything but fall into Cedric’s bitten lips and toned chest. You could never get used to him, used to what he could do to you. 

Overwhelmed by arousal, you let your hips shift slightly, barely brushing against his hardened crotch but whined at the small sensation. His hands had left your heat so long ago, the journey to your bedroom so drawn-out it almost made you wonder if Cedric made you wait for it on purpose. Took his time making out with you in every empty hallway and besides every grassy courtyard just so you’d be desperate. Just so would whine at the smallest of movements in the way you just did, the way that caused Cedric to pull away from your lips, revealing a wicked grin on his. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” he chuckled. You were too out of breath to speak, but your head was against the wall, making responding impossible. It didn’t matter after a minute, however, when Cedric continued, breath suddenly on your neck, “I don’t blame you, Y/N. You’ve been so good, baby. So patient. Letting me take my time.”

“Cedric,” you moaned, feeling his teeth sink down into your neck, followed by sucks that would leave marks for you to find tomorrow morning. Your hands flew to the back of his head, running through his hair, golden brown and thick. But suddenly, his biting stopped.

Cedric pulled away decisively, in a big motion. He grabbed your hands in his and yanked them out of his hair with even more force than they had been pulling originally, lifting them up above your head so your knuckles hit the wall. “Stay,” he growled, eyes dark but tone of voice even rougher. You quivered against the wall, watching as Cedric took off his own robe and began untying his tie carefully, as if his boner wasn’t visible despite the pale moonlight being the only source of light in your bedroom. As if you weren’t panting and quaking for some touch of any sort. 

Once it was free from his neck, Cedric reached up to your wrists and tied it around them tightly. Beyond that making you whimper slightly, it wasn’t helping that Cedric had decided to loosen the top buttons of his shirt as well, the skin exposed and almost being pressed against your face as he tugged on the final knots. 

You gulped, aroused but concerned. “Cedric?” you questioned, watching as his eyes drifted down to meet yours. “What about you? What if I want to touch you?”

He smiled so softly it was almost unbelievable he had just tied your wrists above your head with his Hufflepuff tie. “This isn’t about you touching me, Y/N. This is about me seeing exactly how turned on I got you, about fucking you so hard because you just sat there and took it and I can make you do the same again. Okay?”

Afraid your voice wouldn’t come out, but rather, you’d merely whimper, you decided to nod in agreement, dealing with the soft bumps of your head against the wall. Cedric was still smiling as his hand slid deliberately from your wrist all the way down to your aching thighs. Not between them, however; Cedric’s fingers found the fabric of your skirt and waistline of your panties first, pulling them down in one motion. You kicked them and your shoes off unceremoniously. 

Luckily, the potential for awkwardness was lost as hands found your inner thighs once more, followed by a soft demand of, “Open up, love.” You felt your legs spread as far as they could go without buckling over. Cedric was assisting, however, with his free hand on your hip, steadying you. “Just like that, yeah,” he praised, making your cheeks flush. 

But what was worse but better, what sent your skin from slightly warm to scalding hot was Cedric’s curse when he placed two fingers against your heat once more, feeling through your folds, his eyes transfixed. “Fuck, still so wet.” Then, he glanced up, eyebrow cocked and smirk strong across his face before asking, “All this for me?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, head falling back slightly, top of it resting against the wall. 

His fingers slipped into your entrance once more, making you moan. Cedric’s voice was rough in reaction. “Shit. I could just fuck you right now. So stretched from taking it earlier. Letting me finger you in public, where anyone could see—”

“Cedric,” you panted, impossibly aroused.

He looked up to you. “What is it?” Though your eyes were screwed shut, the smirk on his face was so heavy you could hear it. “What do you want? Hmm?”

Devilishly, Cedric’s finger hooked into you, eliciting yet another moan from your parted lips. “I want you.” It was whinier than you meant it to be.

“What do you want me to do, though?” he chuckled, amused at your desperation. At the fact you were squinting against him, hands tied above you, and he loved having you like this.

“Cedric—”

He swallowed your complaint by pressing his lips atop yours but pulling away before adding tongue, making the intention of the kiss brutally obvious. Against your still-open mouth, Cedric breathed, “You have to tell me. The full sentence.”

So you did. “I want you to fuck me.” Then, for added luck and with added desperation: “Please.”

You felt Cedric’s deep groan of agreement against your throat before you heard it. There were two other outward displays of accordance which followed; firstly, the “God, I want to fuck you,” followed by tugging of your bottom lip between Cedric’s teeth. He was panting when he retracted his teeth, as if something had already happened. But, then again, so were you.

“I’m gonna take you right against this wall,” he said, detaching himself to begin unbuttoning his pants. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t think. Until you can’t sit down.” You were whimpering even though his hands were far from you, pushing his own pants down. “Then”—he focused on you once more, pressing your bodies together, whispering into your ear—“I’ll fuck you nice and slow on your bed. Take my time. But only if you’re a good girl. But you’re always a good girl.”

“Cedric,” you moaned, unable to help the almost invisible thrust of your hips. He couldn’t call you a “good girl” and expect you to have any response other than an overflow of bliss; it was his fault, truly.

From somewhere above you, Cedric snickered. “You like that, don’t you? Me telling me how good you are, how wet, how tight.” His hands had found their way back to your hole, barely even ghosting over it yet still causing you to shudder. 

“Yes,” you breathed.

Cedric’s eyes bore into yours, darker than usual, but some slivers still glowing golden from the light of the moon. He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you apart; you thought he just might. 

“You want to be my good girl?” You were biting your lip while nodding furiously, making Cedric grin, full of sin and arousal. “Good girls ask for what they want.”

“But Cedric, I already—”

Suddenly, Cedric pushed his body against yours even further. His hands rushed up your body, flats of his palms against your forearms, making goosebumps form. But none of those compared to the way your skin sang under his breath, which was clinging to your neck as he clung to you.

“Tell me again. It’s what I like,” he explained, pant heavy in his delivery. “I want to know you want it. Because I do.”

You would have thrown your head back if there wasn’t a wall behind it; but, you were also grateful for the fact it was helping you stand upright as a pulse of pleasure hit your body from Cedric’s low voice and sinful words. “Fuck, yeah, I want it,” you groaned. “Need it.”

But Cedric kept pushing: “Need what?”

“Need you to fuck me.”

Lightly, Cedric placed his lips against your bruised neck, and you could feel the form of his smile beneath your jawline. It was unadulteratedly and uncharacteristically tender and made the world slow, for just a moment, before it all sped up and turned sideways and felt like strobe lights flashing from within your soul.

Because Cedric was pushing into you, suddenly, deeply, deliberately, making your entire body quiver against the wall. With one hand on your hip and the other holding your tied wrists against the wall above you, he began thrusting in and out of you with the promised intensity and the foreshadowed words.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he hissed. “Even after all that stretching out in the Great Hall.” Cedric caught his breath a bit before continuing. “So good, baby. You feel so good around me.”

You breathed out a hazy, “fuck,” watching Cedric devour the scene below with his eyes, impossibly hot from the feeling of Cedric getting harder inside of you from watching him ram in and out of your hole. It was a steady but fast rhythm Cedric had chosen, one that never let you catch a beat of rest before his dick was inside once more, so brutally and beautifully deep, your wrists kept rattling against his hand, desperate to scrape nails along his back, his shoulder blades, or maybe dig your fingers into his hair and tug to the pace of his thrusts (you knew Cedric enjoyed that as much, or maybe even more, than you). But, with wrists bound, all you could do was match his thrusts with the rolling of your hips, leaving you desperate in the best definition of the word.

His relentless words weren’t helping, either. The barrage of praises like “Taking it so well, so deep,” and “You’re such a good girl for me,” and “Feels so good,” only making your body feel more intoxicatingly hot. Every inch of you burned and burned for him only. 

“Cedric” you whined. “Cedric, Cedric… so big, so good.” Breathlessly, you arched your back against the wall. “More,” you explained. “Need more.”

Cedric hissed before pulling out and slamming into you so forcefully, your knees almost buckled over. “Fuck, you just take it, don’t you?” he asked.

“My legs,” you panted. “Up.”

The grin on Cedric’s face was wild and devilish when he figured out what you meant, decoded your desires, and suddenly both hands were cupping your ass as Cedric lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist. The unison groan emitted was loud and rough and raw.

“Fuck, this was brilliant,” he complimented. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Suddenly, the stream of curses was cut off, but you quickly realized why when Cedric went for your neck, kissing and biting and sucking along it once more. “Mine,” he growled after nipping a patch of skin with his teeth. “All mine.”

You could only whimper in agreement; even nodding was too much for you with Cedric like this. Because the combination of his tongue against your already abused skin, his panting breath, his relentlessly deep and brutally fast thrusts, the words he had spoken, his fingers on your ass and digging into the flesh there like his life depended on it all left you feeling so full and blissed, you felt the coil in your stomach—the one that had wrapped itself inside of you since the beginning of the Halloween Feast—begin to threaten to unwind.

You surprised yourself when, after only one deep breath, you were able to get out, “Cedric, I’m close.”

His head lifted in response, eyes meeting yours yet again. From that distance, they were dangerously dark, and you were certain they could drown. Bit then Cedric placed your foreheads together, skin against skin there, as well, and panting hot breath against panting hot breath. With his eyes that close you felt yourself slipping under their grasp.

“Need to come?” he asked agonizingly casually. You bit down on your lip in silent agreement. Then, quickly, your teeth weren’t the only ones on that bottom lip; Cedric clenched down and tugged your lip from under your teeth with his own. He released it just as suddenly as he had bitten down on it. 

With a heavy growl, he spoke again. “Good girls ask, remember? Good girls ask and use their words.”

At his words, your body shook violently, and you could feel the unwinding happening, feel the precursor of your back lifting to go into a full arch. But you swallowed it just enough to get your words out, needing Cedric’s permission. Wanting it. 

“Can I please come?” you asked, as evenly as possible, as if Cedric didn’t decide to thrust into you with even more force after the first time you told him you were close. As if you weren’t already there, just waiting. “Please, Cedric. Please.”

“You’ve been so good for me, princess,” Cedric said. “So, yes, yes of course you can come.”

And holy hell did you, with pounding wrists against the wall and a violent push of your hips against Cedric’s and a scream of his name so loud, your friends at the feast probably heard it. But you didn’t care, so deep in the throes of it all you could think about was Cedric making you feel absolutely electric. Thoughts about anything other than his hands over yours and his dick deep inside of you were nonexistent as your vision blackened and your spine shuddered.

You were panting heavily against him, forehead somehow fallen against the crook of his neck, when you came out of your orgasm. Cedric, meanwhile, was still pumping into you with the same vigor as before. But, as you allowed your head to lift, assessing his features, you realized his jaw was clenched and his eyes threatening to seal shut.

Tentatively, curiously, you rolled your hips into his once more, and were awarded with a low groan. “Shit. Shit, Y/N,” he panted. “Yes. Keep doing that.” So you did, gently, easily, teasingly, contrasting with his uneven and jolted thrusts. “I’m gonna…. I’m, I’m.”

It was clear you never asked Cedric to use his words, because his sentence was cut off with a rugged scream as he quickly shoved your legs off of him and pulled out of you. His come dripped in the innermost part of your thighs, mixing with your leftover wetness, you were sure.

He was still panting moments after. Though you thought you’d initiate the next motion—a kiss was due, you had decided—Cedric began moving before you could, reaching up with shaky fingers and untying his tie from your wrists. You knew from experience his fingers lingered there to check for bruises, but then they continued holding your wrists, leaving you confused until you felt Cedric’s lips against them, leaving trails of kisses down your arms. 

So, of course, he imitated the kiss, as well, slow and drawn out and deep but not destructively. No; Cedric was kissing you with too much tenderness for this to be about anything other than appreciation. Coaxing and taking his time. Subconsciously, your body melted into his touch.

When he pulled back, his eyes were calmer, like an ocean after a tsunami, vast yet quiet. His hair was somehow a mess, even though you didn’t get to run it through your fingers as much as you had liked. So you did it now as he smiled down at you, ruffling his hair before trying to comb it back into place.

“That wasn’t too much?” he asked. His grin was hopeful and boyish.

You shook your head in response, your grin reassuring and warm. “It was a lot, but in a good way. In an amazing way.”

Then, somehow, though his grin was hopeful and boyish and leaning towards cocky, Cedric somehow began to blush. “Do you, uh, still remember what I said earlier? About having sex with you twice?”

Though you had bitten your lip numerous times within your time with Cedric tonight, the way you bit down on it now was the first one with a seductive undertone. You nodded at him shyly while he swallowed a gulp that turned into assuredness.

He was grinning again when he asked, “So, does that mean you’re down for round two?”

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by an anonymous user on Tumblr. Find me there under the same name @madforscamander


End file.
